Claire stifled a giggle as she shook her head. Their daughter couldn’t be more like her father if she tried. “Honey, I think he’ll love it.”

“Are you sure?”

Claire wrapped Nichol in a warm hug. “I’m sure, sweetie.”

“But…” Nichol scrunched her eyebrows together. “…what if he doesn’t like paper hearts?”

“I’m sure he’ll love paper hearts, especially when they’re made by his two favorite girls.”

Nichol clapped her hands as the sound of voices traveled from the foyer. “Oh, Momma, he’s home!”

Before Claire could respond, Nichol was gone, her small feet running hurriedly toward the front door. Claire took one last look around the kitchen dining area. Pink, red, and white construction paper lay everywhere. She shook her head, confident that Anthony Rawlings had never celebrated Valentine’s Day with paper hearts and homemade cupcakes; nevertheless, that was Nichol’s idea, and Claire was not about to discourage their daughter’s creativity.

“Don’t look, Daddy.”

Claire turned to see their daughter leading Tony by the hand, his eyes squinted shut. By the way his lips turned upward in that mischievous grin, Claire was confident that he could see the colorful explosion all around him. Moments later, his wink confirmed her suspicions.

“May I open my eyes yet?” he asked.

Claire was sure she’d never tire of hearing him banter and play with their beautiful daughter.

“Not yet,” Nichol responded. “Momma and I have somefing for you.” She led Tony to a waiting chair. “Sit down here.”

Yes, thought Claire. Demanding just like her daddy, too.

“You do?” Tony asked as he sat. “What does your momma have for me?”

Claire’s insides tightened as she brushed his cheek with a fleeting kiss and whispered, “Later.”

Placing a paper crown on his thick salt and pepper mane, Nichol clapped her hands and shouted, “Open your eyes! Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy!”

Tony laughed as he pulled Nichol to his lap and kissed the top of her head. “Is this all for me?”

Her little pigtails swung back and forth as she nodded. “It’s ‘cause we love you! We made cupcakes too!”

“We did,” Claire added as she grinned at Tony’s paper crown. “However, I think we should eat dinner before cupcakes.”

“No, Momma.” Nichol pouted and looked pleadingly from Claire to Tony. “It’s a special day.” Her little fingers fumbled with the neckline of her top. “See, I even got to wear my great-grandma’s necklace. That means it’s very special. So we can eat cupcakes before dinner.”

Tony shrugged and smiled at Claire. “My dear, your negotiating skills have been passed on to the next generation. I don’t know how we could possibly argue with that reasoning.”

Claire sighed. “All right, you two, but we have a wonderful dinner waiting, so after the cupcakes…”

“We’ll eat dinner,” Nichol and Tony said in unison.

AFTER DINNER AND a bedtime story, Tony and Claire tucked Nichol into bed and closed her door. Melting against her husband’s side, Claire enjoyed his strong embrace as she let out an exaggerated breath.

“Are you tired of celebrating, my dear?”

“I think I am. You have no idea how long it took to cut out all of those hearts.”

Leading her toward their suite, Tony opened the door to a candlelit surprise. Their private table was set with white linen, a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, and covered dishes.

“Tony? What did you do?”

“Well, I may have been tipped off about the paper and confection celebration.”

Claire raised a brow. “Who told you? It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Shannon may have said something—but don’t be upset with her. When I told her that I wanted her to watch Nichol tonight while I took you out to celebrate, she explained the secret plan. She didn’t want me to ruin Nichol’s surprise.”

Claire turned slowly, noticing the rose petals strewn across their turned-down sheets. “What is all of this?” she asked as she motioned toward the table. “We already ate.”

With a devilish grin, he lifted one lid to reveal strawberries.

“Hmmm,” she replied. “I think I could be persuaded—”

Before she could finish he lifted the second lid revealing chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Her eyes opened wide. “Tony?”

He gracefully moved toward her, his eyes darkening with each step, twisting her insides to a painful pitch. As Tony held her close, pressing her breasts against his strong chest, and seized her lips, tired was no longer part of Claire’s thinking. Moments later, his skilled fingers began to unbutton her blouse.

Less of a protest than a question, Claire repeated, “Tony?”

His warm breath tickled her exposed shoulder as he whispered, “We don’t want to get chocolate sauce or whipped cream on this beautiful blouse.” Cocking a brow, he added, “Or your slacks, or any colorful lace you have underneath.”

Holding his shoulders for support as her slacks joined her blouse in the puddle of silk on the floor, she replied, “We don’t?”

“No, because, my dear, it’s time for our own confection celebration, and if you think our kitchen was messy…” He grinned as his dark eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “…you haven’t seen anything yet.”